


The Edge

by HatshepsutAgrippina



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Bloodplay, Cauterization, Electrical Cord Whipping, Electroplay, F/F, Face Slapping, Gun Threats, Knifeplay, Medical Play, Tasers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 17:55:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11109822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HatshepsutAgrippina/pseuds/HatshepsutAgrippina
Summary: Set in an AU where Samaritan never existed: Shaw has been going out of her way to avoid Root since telling her she can't be with her. However she misses the pain only Root can provide and tonight she can't bring herself to stay away.





	The Edge

The rain poured down with increasing intensity, pounding on the tin roof in a seemingly endless crescendo. Shaw sat in the dimly lit kitchen, cleaning her favourite pistol. The lamp on the table in front of her flickered making shadows dance on the walls as she lovingly drew the cleaning rod in and out of the barrel. A partially empty bottle of whiskey sat before her. She was on the verge of making an inordinately poor decision.

It had been months since she told Root in no uncertain terms they could never be together. She knew now as she had known then, it was the right decision. It didn’t take a genius to see, she and Root together would be a train wreck in the making. Root would have seen it too, had she been able to assess the situation from a passionless standpoint. Unfortunately, Root had an overabundance of emotions. As such it had been up to Shaw to make the correct choice for both of them. However, on nights like these, when there was no work with which to distract herself, her mind would wander back to Root. The way she made her feel alive, broke through the empty void in which she perpetually dwelled. As someone who didn’t feel emotions, aside from varying levels of anger, pain had a powerful capacity to penetrate the mental abyss that threatened to engulf her. If there was one skill she and Root shared, besides killing people, it was hurting each other.

Against her better judgement, Shaw had kept tabs on Root’s activities. It was because of this she knew Root was currently staying at a hotel within walking distance of her safehouse. She had told herself she was doing it to avoid unexpected encounters with her but that was a lie. Tonight, her self-control was waning. She knew she could walk into any BDSM club and have people lining up to play with her but it wasn’t the same. Those people wanted negotiations and safewords, insisted on aftercare and asked her about her feelings. Shaw wasn’t really into that sort of thing. Regrettably, Root was the only person prepared to hurt her the way she liked who didn’t want to see her dead. At least she had been. Given the fact Shaw had been ignoring her phone calls for months it was a possibility Root would, in fact, wish to kill her now. Shaw finished cleaning her gun and reassembled it. Slamming a magazine into the pistol, she took a final swig of whiskey, before shoving the weapon into her belt and heading out the door.

The storm assaulted her as she stepped into the street. The torrential rain battered her flesh drenching her to the bone. She kept her head down and settled into a jog. Upon reaching Root’s hotel she burst through the doors into the lobby, eliciting a startled reproach from the desk clerk as she tracked mud across the formerly pristine floor. Shaw bared her teeth in a snarl staunching further admonishments and headed for the elevator. Stepping inside, she punched in the number for Root’s floor and settled back against the wall. She knew she would regret this in the morning but right now she couldn’t bring herself to care.

The elevator dinged signifying she had reached Root’s floor. She pushed herself off the wall and marched down the hallway with purpose. Upon reaching Root’s room she kicked in the door with a deafening crack. She stepped into the room as Root leap to her feet spinning to face the doorway in apprehension. Shaw charged directly at Root. She seized her by the shoulders propelling her backwards, slamming her against the wall.

As Root’s back met the wall a kaleidoscope of emotions flickered across her face before she regained control, schooling her expression into a smirk. Shaw grasped Root’s neck with enough force to hold her in place, but not quite enough to choke. She withdrew her pistol pressing it against Root’s side. Water dripped from her body seeping into the carpet. Leaning against Root’s body she waited in silence.

“Why, Shaw…” Root quipped “you’re making me wet.” Shaw shook her head, flirting via puns was so Root. She pressed the gun more firmly into her side.

“I don’t think you came here to shoot me, Sameen.” Root reached into her jacket pocket retrieving her taser. She held it up within Shaw’s field of vision. Electricity crackled between the prongs and her eyes sparkled as she pressed it against the side of Shaw’s neck. Shaw’s pistol clattered to the ground. Electricity surged through her. She stiffened, then started to convulse, searing pain tore through her entire body. Root caught her as she collapsed, lowing her to the floor almost lovingly. Through the fog of pain, Shaw was vaguely aware of Root dragging her across the room. By the time she had regained her faculties Root had her zip-tied to a chair.

“I don’t have an iron this time.” Root frowned “So, I guess my knife will have to suffice.” She held the blade out for Shaw to see before slashing it down the front of her shirt, tearing the dripping material aside. She placed the tip of the knife on Shaw’s chest. Shaw shivered as the cold metal touched her skin. Root held eye contact. The seconds dragged out. Shaw squirmed in frustrated anticipation.

“Don’t move, sweetie.” Root admonished “I wouldn’t want to hurt you unintentionally.” Shaw stilled. Had it been anyone else the term of endearment would have driven her to near homicidal rage. With Root, she found it… tolerable. Finally, Root drew the blade across her chest leaving a trail of blood in her wake. A sharp sting bloomed across her flesh. Shaw inhaled sharply as Root retraced the blade’s path with her tongue before leaning in to kiss her. The metallic taste of blood filled Shaw’s mouth as Root’s tongue swirled around her own. She returned the kiss with enthusiasm biting down on Root’s bottom lip with savage force. Root pulled away. Shaw chuckled, she was no longer the only one bleeding.

“I didn’t give you permission to do that, Sameen.” Root reproached with feigned exasperation. Her palm connected with Shaw’s cheek in a powerful clap.

“I don’t need your permission.” The corner of Shaw’s mouth quirked up in smug satisfaction.

“Oh, but you do sweetie.” Root caressed the red mark which had arisen on Shaw’s cheek. “That is if you want me to continue.” Shaw growled softly as Root began to run the blade across her skin again. Root alternated between gently caressing her with the cool metal and slashing the blade across her skin in a random pattern, keeping her off balance, uncertain what was coming next. Shaw remained relatively silent save for an occasional grunt. Blood seeped from the wounds trickling down her chest and stomach. Root paused from time to time to swirl her fingertips in the trails of blood painting patterns on Shaw’s flesh. Shaw shivered more violently from a combination of arousal and the cold. Root stopped abruptly.

“Are you getting cold, sweetie?” She asked in concern.

"I’m fine.” Shaw rolled her eyes.

“We should get you out of those wet clothes. I’ll stop the bleeding first though, wait there.” Shaw snorted at the direction. Although she could escape from the chair if she wanted to, had done so in the past, so perhaps the order was less ridiculous than it initially sounded. Root crossed the room and rummaged through a suitcase returning with a box of alcohol swabs and a butane lighter. Root placed the knife and lighter on the table, reached into the box grabbing an alcohol swab, and tore it open. She set to cleaning Shaw’s wounds tracing the swab slowly across the first cut, taking her time to inflict maximum sting. She repeated the action using a new swab for each cut until each one had received treatment. She ripped open one last swab and picked up the knife running the swab over the blade thoroughly. She reached for the lighter flicking it on. Catching Shaw’s eye with a wink she began running the flame over the blade. Shaw kept her eyes fixed on the blade as it glinted in the light of the blue flame. Root stopped just before the point the metal would have started glowing red and flicked the lighter off, setting it down on the table. She leant in to kiss Shaw roughly before pressing the heated blade against the first cut. Shaw ground her teeth to keep from screaming as the hot metal seared her flesh. Root paused, gently running the fingers of her free hand through Shaw’s still damp hair before cauterising another wound. Root tended to the rest in quick succession, wanting to get them all done before the blade cooled. Shaw dug her nails into her palms and held her breath as patches of scorching pain flared up across the front of her upper body. This hurt far worse than the cuts which was, presumably, why Root chose to do it.

In that moment she almost reconsidered her conviction against entering a relationship with Root. Despite her capacity to annoy the hell out of her at times, Root could meet her needs in a way no one else had before her. She quickly dismissed that line of thought. Taking things to a more serious level with Root when she could foresee the disaster which lay ahead would be irresponsible. When everything inevitably came crashing down Shaw wouldn’t be the one getting hurt. Shaw had never cared if her actions were selfish in the past. However, it seemed somewhere over the course of her turbulent relationship with Root she had started to care. At least as much as someone like her had the capacity to feel concern for the wellbeing of others. Clearly, she didn’t care quite enough evidenced by the fact she was here right now.

By the time Root had finished sealing her wounds Shaw was sweating, panting from the exertion of maintaining relative composure. Root caressed her cheek before slicing her knife though the zip-ties securing her wrists. Seizing a handful of her hair she jerked Shaw to a standing position. Shaw offered no resistance as Root stripped the wet clothes from her body. She battled a wave of dizziness to remain on her feet, the whiskey she had drunk before coming here may not have been the greatest decision. It would seem this night was turning into an amalgamation of poor decisions. Shaw was secretly grateful when Root gripped her forearms and pushed her in the direction of the bed.

Anyone else would have stopped now, asked her if she was okay, perhaps even apologised for taking things too far, but not Root. She seemed to instinctually understand her need to be taken to the edge. In that regard, Root was perfect, not that Shaw planned on giving her the satisfaction of sharing that information. On some level Root probably knew though, she was annoying perceptive like that. Root spun her around pushing her face down onto the bed. Shaw turned her head to the side watching Root as she approached the bedside table. Root flicked off the power point and pulled the lamp cord from the socket before retrieving her knife from her pocket and slicing it through the end of the cord nearest to the lamp.

“Hotel staff aren’t going to be happy about that.” Shaw smirked. Root shrugged and moved back towards the foot of the bed doubling the cord over in her hand and swishing it through the air experimentally.

The first lash of the cord landed on her bottom taking her breath away, an angry welt rose in its wake. The throbbing of the seared wounds on her chest and stomach intensified as they rubbed against the bed sheets. A second blow landed, on her back this time, just below her right shoulder blade. A matching strike landed on the other side seconds later. Root settled into a measured rhythm spacing the stokes out across Shaw’s bottom back and upper thighs. The cord cut into her flesh raising welt after welt, drawing blood in the spots the lashes overlapped. Shaw screamed clawing at the bed sheets but remained in position. As the strokes continued to rain down adrenaline rushed through her. The pain dulled as her heart pounded against her ribcage. Her temperature spiked. Sweat poured from her body soaking the sheets beneath her. Root noticed the change and slowed her assault, delivered a final six strokes leaving long pauses between them. As Root landed the last blow Shaw collapsed on the bed in exhaustion her body starting to shake as she came down from her adrenaline high. The pain flared back into her consciousness. The sheets beneath her felt like sandpaper against her wounds, every welt throbbed in synchrony.

Root stepped back, there was nothing she wanted more right now than to rush to Shaw and hold her but she knew Shaw wouldn’t appreciate that. She didn’t want to cross boundaries and send Shaw running when she had only just reentered her life. She crossed the room digging a tube of antiseptic cream out of her suitcase before heading over to the sink to pour a glass of water. She sat down at the table and waited for Shaw to come down fully.

When Shaw’s breathing returned to normal Root approached the bed. Placing the antiseptic cream on the bedside table, she sat down beside her and lifted her head gently, pressing the glass to her lips. Shaw growled softly.

“We don’t have to cuddle, but I’m not going to have you pass out from dehydration or get an infection.” Root emphasised her words with a light yank on Shaw’s hair. Shaw rolled her eyes but began to drink. Root waited patiently until she had drained the glass. Placing the glass on the bedside table she reached for the antiseptic cream. She unscrewed the cap squeezing a generous dollop onto her fingers before beginning to rub it into the welts. Shaw flinched at the gentle touch but allowed Root to continue. At least she told herself she was allowing her to continue. She wasn’t certain she even possessed the ability to get up right now. Besides, Root was right. It wouldn’t do anyone any good if she got sick. At least Root had the sense not to faun over her verbally, in conjunction with the physical aftercare. Root was thorough in her ministrations, ensuring every inch of battered skin was slathered in the cream. When she was done, she flopped down on the bed next to Shaw. She took several deep breaths; her level of arousal was overwhelming right now but Shaw was in no condition to have sex. Not that she would put it past her to try anyway. She gazed at Shaw as the minutes drew out. Shaw kept her eyes fixed on the wall pretending not to notice.

“I missed you, you know?” She brushed her fingers across Shaw’s arm before pulling them back as if she had touched a hot iron, cursing herself for her lack of self-control, half expecting Shaw to get up and leave despite her weakened state.

“I know.” Shaw sighed.

“I know you don’t do relationships…” Root began. Shaw turned her head eyes boring into Root’s with a combination of impatience and expectation. Emboldened by Shaw’s attention Root continued “We don’t have to be in a relationship… not in the traditional sense… but don’t just leave again. I need you! And you need this…”

“Maybe…” Shaw grumbled.

“Maybe?” Root beamed and went back to stroking her arm. Shaw rolled her eyes yet again.

“Sure, maybe.” Shaw gripped Root’s hand firmly guiding it away. She paused just before letting go, noting Root’s pout. Puppy dog eyes would never have worked on her in the past but it seemed she was developing the capacity for change. Huffing she laced her fingers with Root’s. Allowing their intertwined hands to fall to the mattress, she refocused her attention on the wall. Even without looking at her she could sense Root’s smirk of satisfaction. She shook her head. Perhaps a bit of Root’s crazy was rubbing off on her.


End file.
